Terminals
by moonlightings
Summary: It's been six months since Kid fell into interminable sleep. Six months since I've given up hope and shut out those who cared about me. And sometimes, while I lie awake at night, I think about all of the things I could've done differently. Maybe it's my fault. (Just a little Kid/Liz friendship oneshot.)


AN:

(I thought it was about time I upload a new story. This is just a random idea I had in geography class yesterday, and I thought it would be cool to make it into a story. I'm telling this story from a first person point of view, something I rarely do, so if I screw up at any point please feel free to tell me. Also, it's written in present tense, so tell me if I ever screw up on that, too. Thank you!)

…

I look down at my meister's still frame, his chest puffing up and deflating with gentle breaths that he was not aware he was taking. His skin looks pale, paler than usual, but I suppose that it could just be the new medicine the doctors are giving him. I listen to the steady 'beep' of the cardiac monitor at his bedside, and I let the gentle noise sooth me with the reminder that he is still alive. I smile a bit as I remember that he would surely freak out if he found out there was no cardiac monitor on the other side of the bed. I do not notice it, but I am gnawing at my freshly manicured nails. I don't really care at this point, though. That isn't what I should be worrying about.

What I'm really worried about is the doctor's absence. He told me that he'd be in in a few to tell me how my partner was doing. He's been gone for thirty minutes, now, and I am slightly infuriated. I would think that Death City's only hospital would have more responsible doctors, but that wasn't the case, sadly. I sigh, leaning back in the chair I had put by my companion's bedside a few months ago. I wanted information, and I wanted it now. I refused to leave this hospital room until I've received a full report.

Ten more minutes pass, and finally, the handle to the large oak door jiggles for a moment. A clicking sound can be heard as the door gently creaks open, revealing a guy I have never seen before. For some reason, there's a new doctor each visit. I have no idea why, though.

He studies me for a moment before smiling slightly, walking over to me and outstretching a hand. I smile as well, trying to seem free of annoyance as we take each other's hands.

"Good morning. I'm Dr. Bennet Fitzgerald. I'll be here to give you the full report on how Kid is doing," he explains before pulling away. I study him for a moment. He's not bad looking. He has messy black hair, thick-framed glasses, and he seems pretty young. Not that I'm checking him out or anything. I just have this thing where I judge how well a person performs something by how they look physically. I know, it's not respectful, but I can't recall a moment in my life where I ever was.

I nod, signaling that I understand. Dr. Fitzgerald looks over at Kid, raising the clipboard and pen that he held in his other hand. His amber eyes scan the paper for a few seconds before he starts speaking again.

"Okay, so, Elizabeth Thompson, is it?"

"Yes," I reply quietly, "but you can call me Liz."

He nods, flipping the paper to stare at a new page. He clears his throat, and I know that he's about to tell me how Kid's been doing. I listen intently, leaning forward in my chair slightly.

"Right. So," he begins, trailing his finger down the paper and stopping at a specific spot that was seemingly important, "Kid's heart rate has been normal these past few days, there has been no change in his blood pressure or ventilatory patterns, and his tomography scans seem to be fine. He seems to be responding well to the anesthetic we have been giving him and there seems to be no sign of swelling and or excess fluid in the brain tissue, so that's good." Dr. Fitzgerald smiles at me once more, lowering the clipboard to his side. He tells me about all of the potential dangers Kid could be facing and how he and the other doctors were going to try to prevent them, basically the same stuff I hear every time I come here. He also tells me the chances of Kid actually surviving or waking up anytime soon, and I cringe as he speaks. I have heard the words "there's no telling what could happen" so many times that I was pretty sure I was used to it. But at the same time, it still hurt to be reminded.

But, despite all of this, I push the bad thoughts aside, wearing a fake smile. I watch Dr. Fitzgerald as he performs simple medical procedures on Kid such as checking his pulse and listening to his lungs. I'm agonizingly accustomed to this procedure, so all I do is sit back and watch, zoning out occasionally. This goes on for about eight minutes until he tells me that he is sure that Kid is fine for now. He walks back over to me, shyly handing me his business card. I'm guessing this is the only time I will ever see him, so I'm not too interested in it. It serves no purpose, much like the information I had previously received from him. He tells me how much of a pleasure it was to meet me and disappears as quick as he arrived.

I glance over at Kid, smiling slightly. The snow white zinnias I had placed in the vase on the table next to him were holding up just fine. They looked as though they'd need some water in a few days, though. I make a mental note of that and gather my things, slinging my purse over my shoulder. I then walk over to Kid, moving his striped black and white bangs out of his face. I lean in, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. I smile as I pull away and start to make my way to the exit. I shut the light off, gently closing the door with a 'click'.

Kid is engulfed in darkness and I am blinded by the bright lights in the hospital's hallways.

I stand awkwardly with my back against the door, letting out a long, exhausted breath. Today had been a long day for me, but I have many more long days to come, so I shouldn't be complaining. Rubbing my eyes, I walk away from the door when I think I have collected myself and make my way down the corridor. I push open the doors to the hospital, stepping outside into the crisp, cool night.

I'm not sure if I even want to go home.

…

When I return home to Gallows Manor, my twin sister Patty is already asleep on our sofa. I smile, grabbing a blanket from our loveseat and gently draping it over her sleeping figure. She stirs a bit, but quickly finds a position she seems to like, snoring quietly. I resist the urge to giggle as I turn on my heel and make my way towards the stairs, heading up to the room me and Patty shared. After I am there, I undress, throwing on the skull-covered pajamas that Kid had gotten me on my birthday two years ago. I like them because they're symmetrical (of course) and they remind me of him. It's like he's always there with me even as I sleep, much like I am always there with him as he is sleeping.

I tie my hair back with a blue ribbon, stretching and climbing into bed. My blanket offers no protection against the chilliness of the night, but it's something I'm used to, so I don't pay any mind to it. I turn over, trying my best to think happy thoughts so that I can convince myself to sleep. It works, and soon I am with Kid in his world, lying by his side peacefully until the chuckling sun appears once more.


End file.
